


I'll Always Be There

by BigBadLittleRed



Series: Stonathan Week 2018 [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Day 2: Love's Sweet Tune, Fluff and Angst, M/M, On the Run, Stonathan Week 2018, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: Based on the song The Promise by When In RomeJonathan is a target of the government after an attempt to expose the local facility's wrongdoings. He is forced to leave the country, his family, and everything he knows behind to stay out of prison. Little does he know, that the last person he wanted to be around was volunteering to help him, and that he would never regret it.





	I'll Always Be There

**Author's Note:**

> ( I really recommend you listen to the song this is based on, it's a great song and I just love it for these two. Plus, it was released in 1988, and Jonathan and Steve hear it for the first time during this fic and it becomes their song. )

September 3rd, 1986

 

**_“If you need a friend, don’t look to a stranger.”_ **

 

They drive under the cover of night, attempting to remain unsuspicious but giving way to justifiable urgency. The car, although filled past its capacity, held nothing but silence. The air in the car was thick with a mix of mourning and anxiety, as in the car they were harboring and aiding a wanted criminal.

 

It had all begun a while back, and really, it all could be traced back to the exposure of the Hawkins Lab back in 1984. Looking back, they had been kids, and it had been a big mistake. The bigger mistake was trying to do it again, only to have Jonathan caught red-handed with top secret government files on government property. Breaking and entering, trespassing, theft, all of it bumped up on the ladder of felonies simply because it took place on federal grounds.

 

It had taken a few days to break Jonathan out of a small cell in the Hawkins Lab, where he had been kept while the people tried to figure out what to do with him exactly. Last Jonathan heard, they were going to turn him in, and he’d spend out the rest of his life in prison. Nobody in their tight-knit group could or would stand by to allow this, so they had schemed and pulled off a messy escape. The second they got in the car, Jonathan was changing out of filthy clothes and they were heading out of town.

 

After tonight, Jonathan Byers would disappear from Hawkins, from the United States entirely.

 

They pull up to the bus stop, miles away from Hawkins, and slowly they all file out of the car. Jonathan pulls his duffel bag and backpack out of the trunk of the car with Jim’s help, the others leaning against the panels of the car and watching quietly. Jonathan drops his bags on the ground, turning to his mother and brother, who both had tears in their eyes.

 

“It’ll be okay,” His voice is a little hoarse, he’d been through a rough couple of nights and he was in for many more. But anything beat sitting in a cell for the rest of his life, where the government could suddenly decide he knew too much and have him killed. Or worse, he could be used as a bargaining chip to gain leverage on his family and friends, and he couldn’t have that either.

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Joyce yanks him into a tight hug, sniffling against his shoulder as tears dampen her cheeks. “I love you so much. It doesn’t matter how far away we are or how long it’ll be, you’ll always be my baby boy.” She whispers, he nods his head, his own eyes pooling with tears.

 

“I know, mom.” He holds her tight for a moment, trying to memorize the smell of hairspray and cigarettes he loved so dearly, and then leans away to embrace his brother. “You take care of mom, all right?” He ruffles the boy’s hair, still not quite over the fact that the boy was almost as tall as him now.

 

“Take care of yourself.” Will breathes shakily, making a noise that sounds vaguely like a stifled sob. “Be careful.” He pleads, Jonathan nods and squeezes the young man’s shoulders.

 

“I will be.” He promises.

 

Next is Nancy, the girl practically lunging at him for her own tight hug. She’s been in quiet tears for a few nights now, berating herself silently and aloud for getting Jonathan into this mess in the first place. He was never one to stir the pot, but he never hesitated to follow Nancy Wheeler into battle. In the end of their little break-in, he had launched her over a fence and it had led to his capture shortly thereafter.

 

“I love you.” She pulls back and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “This is ridiculous, I should be going with you.” She says with a small shake of his head, he immediately returns the gesture.

 

“No, you have a future waiting for you. You’re gonna do amazing things, Nancy, I think we went out with a bang like this.” He mutters, tracing his thumb over her damp cheek.

 

“I’ll wait for you.” She urges, Jonathan shakes his head.

 

“Don’t do that, if you find someone, move on.” He insists quietly.

 

“This isn’t goodbye, we’ll fix this.” More tears pour down her face, Jonathan pulls her into another hug.

 

“This might be it, Nancy.” He says, the words have him wiping at one of his eyes as emotions overwhelm him. “You deserve a good life, don’t waste it waiting for me.” He lets go of her and steps back, a pair of headlights appears far away at the end of the road. “I’ll be okay.” He smiles, then picks up his bags, shouldering his backpack.

 

“Kid,” Jim says, stepping closer, Jonathan shuffles his feet. “Stay low, keep your head down.” He hands Jonathan the envelope of money they had all gathered up. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get him out of the country, he hadn’t even decided where to go yet. He didn’t want them to know, for fear of them getting interrogated on it.

 

“Take care of them, Chief.” He murmurs, slipping the envelope deep in his backpack.

 

“With my life.” He claps Jonathan on the shoulder.

 

The headlights come closer, and they all quickly realize that it’s not the bus but another car. Jim quickly grabs Jonathan and yanks him around the side of the car, pushing him to duck down and hide. He does so, breath hitching as Jim’s hand rests down on the handle of his pistol in his holster. The car parks behind Jim’s, Jonathan scrambles forward against the hood as light floods the area, crouched carefully to avoid detection.

 

“Steve?” He stands up at Nancy’s voice, frowning as the older boy gets out of the car with Max and Dustin at his side. Jonathan watches Steve pull out a backpack and a suitcase from his backseat, approaching the group with confidence.

 

“I’m coming with you.” Steve says to Jonathan; the others begin to murmur in disagreement and Jonathan shakes his head.

 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Jonathan asks in disbelief.

 

“I keep wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do with myself, and the perfect opportunity arises.” He shrugs, scratching at his cheek with a sheepish smile. “Someone’s gotta keep you company.” He grins, Jonathan snorts and glances around in shock.

 

“This isn’t a fun trip to an expensive out of country villa, Steve. It’s going to be a lot of squatting and running and avoiding detection.” He says, Steve nods his head.

 

“I know, I emptied my bank account.” He smirks, Jonathan runs a hand through his hair as Jim sighs angrily.

 

“Steve, you can’t.” Nancy snaps.

 

“I can.” He argues firmly.

 

“Kid, you don’t know what you’re getting into.” Jim insists, Steve nods.

 

“Maybe not, but I’ve been wanting out for a while, I just needed a reason.” He reaches out a hand for Jonathan to shake, eyebrows rising up on his forehead. “You need someone at your back, Byers.” He says quietly, the sound of a rumbling bus approaching, the dim fluorescent lights on the platform a few feet away buzzing, and the crickets chirping the only soundtrack to the tense moment.

 

“What do you know about roughing it?” Jonathan questions warily, Steve smiles.

 

“I know I speak basic need to know French and Spanish, and I’m fluent in Italian.” He wiggles the fingers of his outstretched hand, enticing Jonathan to take it. “I might not be the best partner but I’m sure as hell not the worst.” The bus is getting closer, stirring up dust in its wake.

 

“All right, fine.” Jonathan takes his hand to shake it, chuckling in wry disbelief. “You’re insane.” He turns on his heel and walks over to the platform, Steve gives quick hugs to Max and Dustin, ruffling Will’s hair.

 

“Chief, someone take my car back to my parents’ place. There’s a note in my room if they suddenly decide to give a shit.” He says, and the words seem to sober Jim, he nods quietly. “Later days, you guys.” He says with a faint hint of melancholy, flashing them all a sad smile and turning to follow Jonathan.

 

“Bye, asshole!” Dustin shouts, trying for a smile but looking sad as he leans into Max.

 

“Later dipshits!” Steve turns his head and throws up a peace sign.

 

“Steve Harrington, you take care of him!” Nancy calls out as they walk over under the lights.

 

“On my word Ms. Nancy, I’ll take care of your boy!” He hollers back, clapping Jonathan on the back right as the bus pulls up to the station.

 

They both climb on, moving straight to the back and putting their things in the overhead before sinking down into two seats together. Jonathan sits at the window, waving down at the others standing in the dim light. They wave back, tears glimmering in their eyes, Jonathan sniffs and tries to memorize what they all look like in that moment.

 

“You’ll see them again.” Steve says, waving over Jonathan’s shoulder with a grin.

 

“Don’t make me regret taking you with me.” Jonathan murmurs, sinking down in his seat as the bus starts to take off. He watches his friends and family until he can’t see them anymore, pulling in a deep breath and sighing.

 

“Give it a few months, you’ll learn to love me, I promise.” Steve teases, patting Jonathan’s shoulder gently and settling down in his seat.

 

“That’ll be the day.” Jonathan smirks despite himself, leaning his forehead against the window as they trail down the empty road, stars above twinkling faintly.

 

-

 

They end up in Italy, which is far beyond amazing in Jonathan’s eyes. He’s never been outside of Indiana except to visit his grandmother in Iowa a handful of times. Of course not everything is perfect, but he feels less alone with Steve beside him. Steve might be annoying at times, but at least he knew who Jonathan was and spoke his language. It made things a little less overwhelming, not that he’d admit it to Steve.

 

The first night, they had slept on the street. In Jonathan’s opinion, it wasn’t really sleep, it was closing their eyes while sitting against a brick wall. The streets are cold at night, but Jonathan was used to being uncomfortable. He slept on a springy mattress in a house with a finicky heater and at one point, a hole in the wall. This was a new level of discomfort, and he felt bad that Steve was having to do it with him. Most of the night was spent listening to Steve shift and adjust, but he never complained, not once. He just smiled at Jonathan the next day and told him they should invest in sleeping bags.

 

They get breakfast, Steve translating a few things for Jonathan and even ordering for him. It’s strange to hear the foreign language come out of his mouth, with pronunciation that sounds pretty damn perfect to Jonathan. They go to the store and buy two sleeping bags, tying them to their backpacks and heading out to find somewhere else to stay.

 

It takes a few hours to find something, but by lunch they’ve crept into an old abandoned apartment that creaks under their attempted soft steps. It’s surprisingly void of any others, although there is evidence that this wasn’t true at one point. The two hide their things under some floorboards and take some money with them before they leave.

 

“Where are we gonna shower?” Jonathan wonders aloud, Steve scoffs and offers him a smile.

 

“Jonny boy, I’m disappointed that you don’t already know the answer.” He shakes his head.

 

They end up at a gym, and Steve pays for their entry. Jonathan watches Steve work out for about twenty minutes, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. He had never really been much of a guy to work out other than to earn money lifting boxes or moving things.

 

“Come on, Byers, you wanna try?” Steve asks as he sits up, having been lifting weights on the bench for a few minutes.

 

“No thanks.” He mutters, Steve grins at him and then gets to his feet.

 

“Gotta stay quick on our feet, wouldn’t want the law catching up to us.” He smacks the back of his hand against Jonathan’s stomach teasingly.

 

“Can we shower now?” He asks with a scowl, Steve nods his head.

 

“Definitely, we reek.” He agrees, and they both head off to get clean. Jonathan has to admit it was a nice idea, because he feels a lot better after the shower.

 

They both get dressed and head out to lunch, Steve takes Jonathan through the city to see a few things. It almost feels like a vacation, Jonathan really hadn’t had any vacations since he was a toddler. Steve seems to get that and puts on his tour guide voice and promises to take him to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Although instead of Pisa he says ‘Pizza’ jokingly, and Jonathan most definitely does not laugh despite what Steve may claim.

 

“Loosen up a little, man!” Steve tells him, thumping him on the back not for the first time. “We’re in Italy!” He gestures wildly.

 

“On the run from a government organization.” He grumbles, watching an old rustic fountain spray water from a few different statues.

 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” Steve grabs his shoulder and shakes him with a small smile.

 

“I’m a realist.” Jonathan argues, Steve mocks him silently with a roll of his eyes.

 

“Realist is just a word for people in a grumpy mood that can’t see the bright side.” He wraps his arm around Jonathan’s shoulders.

 

They end up back at the old apartment, making sure their things hadn’t been moved or stolen. They end up on the floor in their sleeping bags, those plus the mild shelter of the old apartment was a million times better than the alley they had slept in the night before.

 

Jonathan reads one of the books he brought with him in the dim light of a flashlight. Steve had turned over and presumably gone to sleep, as had most of the city at this point. Things were quiet aside from the occasional distant voice passing by and the moaning and creaking of their dwelling.

 

“What are you gonna do if you can’t go home?” Jonathan startles, setting his book down in his lap with a frown.

 

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.” He allows, Steve turns over to face him, cradling his head on his arm. “If I can’t, then I guess I’ll just settle down somewhere else by myself.” He shrugs his shoulders, Steve stares at him even as he returns his eyes to his book.

 

“What about me?” He asks, Jonathan frowns.

 

“You can go home whenever you want, Steve.” He mumbles, having expected this already. He knew Steve wouldn’t be able to hack it, he just wasn’t cut out for shit like this. It wasn’t his problem anyway.

 

“No I mean, you said you’d settle down by yourself.” He sits up, smirking a little. “What if I wanted to live next door and tell anyone you bring home that you’re a dangerous criminal?”

 

“God.” Jonathan shakes his head with a small smile, Steve chuckles.

 

“I promised Nancy I’d keep you safe.” He says, sober as a judge and serious as a heart attack. “I don’t intend to break that promise.” He lays back down.

 

“What, you still in love with her?” Jonathan asks, feeling just a hint of jealousy. Steve could go home and be with Nancy, unlike Jonathan, he could go home and be that car salesman husband in a suburban neighborhood with a wife and three kids.

 

“If I was, wouldn’t I have stayed and played as her shoulder to cry on?” Steve retorts, not angry, but maybe a little bitter. “Nancy’s in my past, man.” He shakes his head with a quiet huff. “And jealousy doesn’t look good on you.” He turns over, and Jonathan feels only slightly guilty.

 

“Goodnight, Steve.” He mutters, closing his book and lowering himself down. He grabs the flashlight and switches it off, plunging them into darkness.

 

“Night, Jonny.”

 

-

 

**_“You know in the end, I’ll always be there.”_ **

 

Two weeks in, the whole being in another country marvel has worn off. They have money, but both hesitate to spend it on anything but food. It feels like at any moment they might have someone on their trail, although there was nothing to suggest that. The paranoia from Jonathan has set Steve on edge, his anxiety seeping into his older counterpart and making him just as nervous.

 

Perhaps Jonathan was worried for nothing, but he couldn’t be too sure. It would be months before he relaxed, because he wasn’t sure what was happening at home and he couldn’t help but worry for his family. He was a wanted criminal, on the run from the federal government, he’s allowed to be anxious for once. He tells Steve as such, who had seemed to think his mildly hysterical rant was a bit funny, and had laughed before telling him to settle down before he gave himself a stomach ulcer.

 

They wanted to be able to move at a moment’s notice, so they kept to their lone sleeping bags in that house. Steve complained a bit, but really it seemed as if he was trying to make light out of the situation with jokes. Jonathan finds it a bit annoying, but he’s surprised to find that Steve wasn’t as agitating as originally hypothesized. However, squatting in the drafty house starts to wear on them both. A few days before, Steve had caught a cold and soon after, Jonathan caught it from him.

 

It didn’t take long for that cold to turn into a fever, and Jonathan found himself vulnerable in the worst way in front of a guy that he barely knew. He had been a sickly child, so he’s used to being all gross and tired at this point. But usually the only people around him at those times were Joyce and Will.

 

He wakes up to a cool hand on his forehead, the chill making him shiver even harder than he was already as he tries to move away from it. Jonathan’s nose is stopped up, his head stuffy, and his eyes watering as soon as he opens them. Steve is knelt next to him, a prominent grimace on his face as Jonathan tries to pull in a breath through his nose and it makes a disgusting congested noise in his throat.

 

“You really know how to ruin a good time, Jon.” Steve says jokingly, Jonathan swipes at his hand when he tries to touch his cheek.

 

“Don’t call me that.” He grumbles, Steve tips his head to the side and then sighs. His lack of witty reply tells Jonathan that he must look like shit, which sounds about right considering that he feels worse than shit.

 

“You’re gonna be a bad patient, aren’t you?” He says with a playful twitch of his lips, which only makes Jonathan feel more irritated.

 

“I’m not your patient.” His voice sounds hoarse, and what was supposed to be a churlish reply comes out in a way that makes him sound like he’s a pouting child.

 

Damn it.

 

“Right, well, I’m going out to get some stuff to keep you from dying.” He gets to his feet, Jonathan scowls at the ceiling and bunches himself down further in his sleeping bag as the older boy moves around. “Here.” Steve returns, laying his own unzipped sleeping bag over Jonathan, tucking it up under his chin.

 

“I’m fine.” Jonathan says quickly, before pulling the sleeping bag up over his nose with a quiet sniffle.

 

“Just in case.” He says in return, already heading for the door. “Try to get some rest, I’ll be back in a bit.” He says, Jonathan spots him slipping his wallet into his back pocket.

 

Once the back door closes behind him, a heavy silence follows. For the first time since the beginning of this trip, Jonathan realizes how nice it is to have Steve around. His absence is a gaping hole in him, makes him feel lonely and uncomfortable. He dismisses these feelings as a result of his fever addled brain and forces his heavy eyelids closed, turning on his side and curling up as best he can in the sleeping bag.

 

-

 

Steve comes back with a blanket, a pillow, some cough syrup, aspirin, and a hot container of soup. Jonathan is very thankful for the soup, it soothes his scratchy throat and clears his sinuses temporarily. Steve eats his own soup right next to Jonathan, humming under his breath and occasionally making a comment on how good it was.

 

His attitude is something that intrigues Jonathan, the way he’s so ready to be kind to him despite Jonathan never having been anything more than mildly tolerant of his presence. It makes him feel a bit guilty, although he’d never admit that aloud to anyone. He dwells on these thoughts as Steve gets him to lay down on the new pillow and removes the second sleeping bag to cover him with the extra blanket.

 

“There you go. Hopefully you’ll feel better tomorrow.” He says thoughtfully.

 

“Why are you doing this?” He questions, the fever helping him voice his wandering thoughts.

 

“Because you’re in a bad mood on a good day, and I can already tell being sick makes you meaner than usual.” He says teasingly, Jonathan would roll his eyes but he’s too tired.

 

“Exactly,” Jonathan scoffs, his voice a little muffled where it was tucked behind the blanket. He lifts his chin up so he can talk more clearly. “I’m a dick to you, why are you so nice to me? Why did you agree to this at all?” He asks, genuinely curious.

 

Steve stares at him a moment, not contemplating but almost as if he were hesitant to explain his reasonings aloud. He stalls for a few seconds by shifting the soup containers out of the way, shrugging out of his jacket and adjusting his sleeping bag on the floor before getting inside it. Jonathan is quietly patient while he wastes time, knowing that eventually he will have to answer.

 

“Well?” He urges when Steve finally falls still, and the young man sighs.

 

“Because I was a dick to you, so I can’t really blame you. Years of me being an ass must have left a mark.” He says, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to look over at Jonathan. “Plus, I know you’re a nice guy, the little dipshits think highly of you.” He explains.

 

“Do they?” He feels foggy, starting to get warm, which allows for exhaustion to start setting in. “Will always talks about you.” He murmurs, and Steve then turns to look over at him, meeting his eyes.

 

“He’s a good kid, they all are.” He allows, and then sighs once more. “I miss’em.” He admits.

 

“Yeah… Me too.” Jonathan yawns, and then they’re both quiet. Jonathan starts to slip off into sleep, and he knows without a doubt that Steve will be there in the morning. For some reason, that’s comforting to him, and it helps him fall asleep faster.

 

-

 

**_“And when you’re in doubt, and when you’re in danger. Take a look all around, and I’ll be there.”_ **

 

They had the first realization that they were being followed when they got to Germany, and through the winter they’re on the run. It’s cold and they’re tense, it seems like they’re constantly damp from rain or snow, shivering. The winter is sincere in these places, especially when you live most of your life on the street. It’s nearing January, nearly three months since they left Hawkins, and it feels like a lifetime ago now.

 

Jonathan is sat behind a dumpster one evening, awaiting Steve’s return from fetching them some food before they go looking for a place to camp for the night. They had felt the strange unnerving heat of eyes on the backs of their necks for weeks now, and although they hadn’t seen more than a suspicious face disappearing behind a corner, they knew they were being followed. They had a couple of run-ins in November, but it hadn’t been ended in anything but them taking off as fast as they could into the night, trying to escape phantom footsteps and menacing shadows. It felt as if they were running from ghosts at this point.

 

Jonathan was to stay put with their bags, because most likely they would recognize him a little easier than Steve. He huddles up against a wall, smelling not much better than the dumpster next to him. They hadn’t found a place to bathe in three days, and their clothes were starting to wear as thin as their energy levels. At this point they looked homeless, ratty facial hair, filthy clothes, greasy hair…. And he supposed that technically they were. The realization makes him feel empty inside, a sorrow that has him missing his family. He’s cold and tired, ready to drop down and give up at this point.

 

The only thing that kept him going was Steve, who had maintained his humor and lightheartedness despite the fact that his hair was starting to look like a dirty rat’s nest more than hair. He kept smiling, kept trudging, and honestly Jonathan was surprised at how dedicated he was to the cause. The sound of footsteps has Jonathan standing up, readying himself for a cheeky smile and jokes.

 

Steve comes rushing down the alleyway and immediately snatches up his bag. His eyes are wide and he’s mildly out of breath, smoke curling into the air from his lips in quick puffs. Jonathan is grabbing his bag without a word, he knows Steve well enough by now to know what’s happening. Steve starts walking fast and Jonathan follows closely behind.

 

They slip out onto the street and it isn’t long until Jonathan can hear quiet footsteps in the distance that are distinctly following them. Steve’s hand knocks into his and he knows it’s him trying to communicate, but then he seems to decide against his message because he grabs onto Jonathan’s jacket sleeve and yanks him into another alleyway.

 

“Run!” They take off down the alley, and right in that moment Jonathan realizes that Steve was on the track team in high school for a reason. He’s ten times faster, halfway down the long alley while Jonathan is just trying not to slide on the icy and wet asphalt beneath him.

 

There’s a chain link fence near the end of the alley, and Steve leaps up onto it, scrambling his way up it. Jonathan slides into the fence, lifting a foot up to hook it into the metal grating. As he starts his climb, he begins to grow frantic when footsteps start gaining from behind him. A hand grabs his ankle just as Steve vaults himself over the fence, and he grips the fence for dear life when the hand tries to yank him down and another takes hold of his pants leg. He’s pulled violently onto the ground, kicked in the side as soon as he tries to get up.

 

“Shit!” The fence rattles loudly as Steve gets back on it. Someone twists their fist in the back of his shirt and pulls him upright, he’s met with two big men, dressed in dark clothes. The only difference between them in the dark alleyway is that one has bleach blonde hair and the other has a mustache. They haul Jonathan to his feet just as Steve leaps down from the fence, toppling onto the guy with the mustache.

 

It’s a quiet struggle, Jonathan and Steve grappling with two men that were significantly bigger than them. The blonde guy punches Steve right in the face, the young man thrown back on his ass with the impact. Jonathan gets knocked away and picks up a rock, slamming it into the blonde’s head and sending him careening onto the alleyway pavement. The other one flings Steve into the fence and grabs Jonathan, hauling him into the air, against the brick wall, before pressing a muscled arm to his throat.

 

Jonathan kicks and writhes against the grip, grasping at the man’s arm and shirt, desperate to get free as he chokes for air. For a moment, as his vision starts to grow dark, he has a panicked thought that he’s going to die without seeing his family again. He’s going to die alone in this dark alley at the hands of a stranger, and it’s petrifying.

 

Jonathan barely sees the barrel of a gun press to the man’s temple before the following blast deafens him. He hits the ground, coughing and gasping with his ears ringing, trying to blink away the dark spots in his eyesight as he attempts to focus on the man with his brains all over the concrete in front of him. He looks up at Steve with wide eyes, his ears ringing loudly.

 

“Steve?” His voice sounds muffled, and when Steve replies to him, he can barely hear his voice at all and mostly relies on the movement of his lips to help him figure out what he’s saying.

 

“Let’s go.” He pulls Jonathan upright and they grab Jonathan’s bag before tossing it over the fence. Steve helps Jonathan over and they hurriedly leave the area, Jonathan doesn’t miss the sight of Steve sticking the gun into his waistband as they slip from the alley.

 

-

 

The silence between them after that is deafening and refuses to dissipate, far different from the ringing that had faded from Jonathan’s ears a few hours after the incident. They’re nearing the border of Germany and Poland when it finally is brought up once more, out of necessity more than want. He hates the tension between them, and Steve’s jokes now always fell flat like the carbonation had fizzled out of a soda in the warm sun.

 

One afternoon they’re sitting in a bus depot, wasting time until the next bus is scheduled. Steve had located a vending machine, and they were munching on some chips and drinking sodas. Jonathan can’t help but stare down at his pop can and think of the soda simile in that moment, and the words come out of his mouth without a second thought.

 

“Why would you do that?” It’s out of context, random, but it addresses everything in between them in that moment.

 

He’s got a mouthful of potato chips and the condensation on his soda was making the can slippery in his hand, but he holds it firmly and stares down at it, can faintly hear the hiss of the carbonation. For a second he thinks that Steve will ask him what he’s talking about, and Jonathan being the coward he is, will deny it meaning anything. But Steve only sighs and squints out towards the bus depot’s dirty windows and beyond them.

 

“Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, Jonny.” He mutters, then stuffs a couple of chips into his mouth. “Don’t think I didn’t know that following you onto that bus.” He says through his mouthful before pressing his soda to his lips.

 

“Is it because you promised Nancy?” He asks, his stomach churning at the memory of the girl he loved so dearly. For some reason, the passion burned much dimmer now, and he wondered how long it would be until he didn’t love her at all.

 

“You really are thick in the skull, Byers.” Steve snorts, Jonathan looks over at him with a small frown, watching the older boy pour the crumbs from his bag into his mouth. “We’re friends now, I know you didn’t have many back home, but I thought even you could see it.”

 

“Never had any friends.” He doesn’t want the rest of his chips, stomach bubbling with nausea, he offers the bag to Steve. “Except Nancy.” He drops his chin onto his fist, leaning forward to rest his elbow on his knee in the same fluid movement.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve now sounds vaguely uncomfortable.

 

“But killing someone…” His voice is quiet, fearful of anyone overhearing despite them being in a country where English wasn’t the first language.

 

“I know…” Steve waves a hand, eyes hardening slightly as he meets Jonathan’s gaze. “The gun went off on accident, I was just trying to make him let go of you.” He explains, and Jonathan’s eyes widen.

 

“Really?” He questions, unsure and hesitant.

 

“Yeah, butter fingers.” He wiggles his fingers glumly, then balls up Jonathan’s now-empty chip bag as well as his own. “But we got each other’s backs, right? I don’t regret it.” He says, sucking on his front teeth momentarily.

 

“Of course.” He agrees without a second thought, his eagerness to do so seeming to surprise himself more than Steve.

 

“All right, then. End of story.” Steve shrugs, then gets up to throw their trash away. Jonathan takes another sip of his drink, the carbonation fizzles in his mouth and he feels just a little lighter than before.

 

Must be the caffeine.

 

-

 

**_“I’m sorry but I’m just thinking of the right words to say. I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be.”_ **

 

The months trickle away like sand in an hourglass, time flowing by them until their funds begin to dwindle and all they know is one another. Not all of it is bad times, in fact after a while Steve helps Jonathan find the brighter side of things. They take the time to get to know each other, to let their friendship solidify in a way that Jonathan had never experienced before.

 

He had casual friends at Hawkins, people who asked him about the notes in class or photography club members that talked to him about cameras on occasion. Those were people he saw in public, a sort of formal interaction, he never quite knew how to act in those situations. This was why he didn’t really have friends, you had to get past the formal part to reach the casual part. The only reason he had Nancy was because there was nothing formal about a monster stealing your little brother, so there was really no time to be anything but honest and straightforward.

 

With Steve, the formality only existed on his own part, which was strange. Steve had approached him in a way an old friend might, and he simply acted casually with Jonathan until the latter was forced to relax and return the rapport. It worked, really well in fact, and after so long with Steve he wasn’t just used to him, he enjoyed his company.

 

On some late nights, when the air is so cold that he can’t nod off, they talk into the dark. They share their pasts, their thoughts, anything they can think of. It doesn’t take long before Jonathan knows that Steve’s parents never paid him much attention, and that he spent a lot of time in a big and empty house. In return, Steve is told the story of Lonnie, when he left and why. Those nights are awkward, but it’s a necessary feeling that will eventually fade and give way to more comradery.

 

When it stops being cold, they still stay up into the night, talking. Sometimes there isn’t much to say, but it doesn’t matter, because it seems like they are both grasping for things to fill the space just so they don’t have to sleep. Jonathan has never had any relationship like this before, where someone is just as eager to simply talk to him as he is to them. It’s comforting, to know that despite all the strangeness of him and his life, that someone can still like spending time with him.

 

In October, it starts to get cold again, and Jonathan is reminded that they have been running for over a year now. The realization makes him quiet and withdrawn, and Steve seems to pick up on this. He settles his worn out sleeping bag next to Jonathan’s and their shoulders are almost pressed together when they turn out the lantern, plunging the empty basement they had located into darkness. For a minute or so they’re just breathing, which sounds a lot louder when they have no stimuli to focus on visually. Steve shifts and their shoulders brush, and Jonathan wonders if Steve’s parents miss him like Jonathan knows Joyce misses her own son.

 

“You okay?” Steve’s voice has a soft lilt to it, keeping his tone casual, he had a skill in being informal it seemed.

 

He can’t find the words to respond in turn, thinking of Will and the boys, of Nancy. He misses his drafty old house, his busted up old car, and especially his family. He misses them like he’s been holding his breath and they’re air, life without them isn’t the same and he hates it. He misses his mother’s hugs and the way her cigarettes made him grimace, his little brother jumping onto his bed on a weekend morning to wake him up.

 

“Jonathan?” His breathing has significantly sped up, desperately trying not to allow it to hitch with emotion as tears pool into his eyes. “Jonny?” Steve sits up, his hand brushing Jonathan’s shoulder.

 

“I want to go home.” His voice cracks, sounding like a distressed child as a sob breaks from his lips shortly after.

 

He sits up, pressing his hands to his face in a futile attempt to stop the tears and muffle his sobs. He never liked to show weakness, his father had made fun of him for crying so much as a child. Unfortunately, he had been cursed with the affinity for needing to cry at just about everything, anger, distress, frustration. It had been so long since he cried, he was surprised to have held out this long. It felt like a dam had burst open, and Jonathan was filled with shame as he curled over and cried into his hands in front of Steve.

 

“Hey,” An arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him carefully into Steve’s chest. He only resists momentarily, falling into his embrace and hiding his damp face against the older boy’s shoulder. They had already celebrated a birthday each here, Jonathan’s in February and Steve’s in July, how many more until they could go home? If they could, at all…. And that was the worst part…

 

“I wanted t-to go to NYU, I wan-wanted to-to see Will graduate…” His voice shakes and trembles as he tries to babble through the tears, trying to explain himself. “What if they need me?” He clings to Steve, fingers clasping tightly at the back of the older boy’s jacket as his chest heaves with uneven breaths.

 

“They need you alive, man.” Steve shifts slightly and pulls him closer, wrapping firm arms around him and rubbing at his back. “Your mom is a tough lady, she kicks ass and we both know it, dude.” He murmurs, pressing his nose to Jonathan’s hair with a weak chuckle. “And Will’s resilient, just like you, they’ll be fine.” He assures.

 

“I n-never spent more than three days away from my mom before.” He finds himself admitting, as the tears start to slow. He’s created a space of warmth at Steve’s neck, breathing hotly against his shirt and sniffling quietly.

 

“Not even for camp?” He asks, Jonathan shakes his head.

 

“I could never make it through the first night or two without calling her to come get me.” He admits, embarrassed. “I miss her, Steve.” He feels tears of shame in the back of his eyes, lips quivering. He missed his mom, what a loser, Steve was probably thinking.

 

“I know.” Steve replies simply, resting his head against Jonathan’s and squeezing him gently.

 

“Don’t you miss anyone?” He asks, not accusing but curious, Steve never seemed attached to his parents.

 

“I miss the kids, Dustin and Max mostly.” He allows, sighing as he rubs Jonathan’s back. “But I think about what I’m doing here, and I know I couldn’t be sitting in Hawkins knowing you were out here alone somewhere.” He murmurs.

 

“I wasn’t anything to you before this.” He argues quietly, Steve hums.

 

“I owed you for beating sense into my ass that day.” He explains softly, Jonathan gives a watery laugh and they let go of each other. Steve must have turned on the lantern, because it casts a low glow on them, just enough to see one another, anything beyond its reaches remaining completely and utterly black.

 

“I’m glad you came with me.” He manages to say, voice a hoarse croak. “I’d be dead by now otherwise.”

 

“How about tomorrow we send a post card to your house before we leave?” He asks, and Jonathan nods his head, it sounded like a good idea.

 

“Yeah, sure.” He allows, then adjusts himself back into his sleeping bag. They both lay down, Jonathan still wiping at his face to rid himself of the remainder of his tears. “Sorry.” He says softly.

 

“Don’t apologize.” Steve tells him, smiling gently. “I cried in a gas station bathroom a few months ago, we’re in the same boat.” He promises, Jonathan can’t help but smirk as they share a quiet laugh.

 

“Night, Steve.” He says, and the older boy nods his head and reaches out to turn out the light.

 

“Night, Jonny.” They are both quiet once more, and after a pause, Steve speaks again. “I’m going to get you home eventually, I promise.” He says firmly, and Jonathan can’t fathom how easily he believes the man’s sincerity.

 

-

 

**_“But if you wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for me.”_ **

 

More time passes, another year is like nothing now, with the way they’re starting to get along. They take a boat and travel to Sweden, which Jonathan finds he loves the most so far. Maybe it was just the fact that he felt more accepting of the situation than before, maybe it was his growing relationship with Steve at his side. He felt happier, despite the situation, like he was starting to figure himself out all over again.

 

Steve steals a radio from a store one afternoon while Jonathan pays for food, and they end up back in their hideout for lunch. Jonathan had tried to scold him for his actions, but Steve was busy trying to find a good song to listen to. He was dancing around like a crazy person while Jonathan spread peanut butter on a piece of bread with his finger. Halfway through his sandwich, Steve approaches him and drops down to help himself to some of their food.

 

“Peanut butter is so good.” Steve says, taking an entire fingerful of it and sticking it into his mouth, ignoring Jonathan’s grimace.

 

“Don’t stick your spit finger back in there!” He objects, grabbing the jar when Steve tries to do just that.

 

“Come on, it’s not like we don’t share drinks and stuff already!” The older boy reaches for the jar, Jonathan pulls it back far out of his reach and Steve follows.

 

He knocks into Jonathan, sending the younger down onto the floor while he plants an arm on Jonathan’s chest and tries to reach for the jar. They’re squirming and Jonathan is pushing at Steve’s face, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. The jar of peanut butter goes rolling away when Steve loses his balance, narrowly avoiding knocking their heads together. They both fall still and silent as they’re met nose to nose with one another, Jonathan’s eyes wide at the close proximity.

 

The radio’s song is ending, something he thinks might be by Fleetwood Mac, simply because he recognizes Stevie Nicks’ voice. Steve loves Stevie Nicks, Jonathan wasn’t a huge fan. Steve should move, but he’s not, and Jonathan is too busy wondering when Steve’s eyes got so pretty to push him off.

 

“Shit.” Steve grunts, looking exasperated, then he leans down, and their lips are meshing together. Jonathan hesitates only briefly before squeezing his own eyes shut and pressing back.

 

He’s confused, stunned, but he knows for a fact that he can’t miss this chance. They kiss for a long moment, he presses a hand to Steve’s jaw and allows himself to feel the stubble on his jaw. They both smell like wet dogs at this point, neither have been properly clean for a while now. And yet, the peanut butter flavored kiss remains passionate until the radio switches to another song.

 

“Who’s this?” Jonathan asks when a man starts to sing, something upbeat and yet melancholic at the same time, unable to say anything else. It has a bit of a hopefulness to it, but there’s a deeper meaning to it as well the more he listens.

 

“Doesn’t sound like anyone I know…” He says with a small frown, breathing slightly labored. The man is singing of promises, of misunderstandings and falling in love.

 

_“And if I had to walk the world I’d make you fall for me. I promise you, I promise you I will.”_

 

“Me either.” He drops his head back onto the floorboards, a little out of breath himself. His hands rest on Steve’s thigh and stomach, where Steve is sitting on Jonathan’s stomach. They probably look awfully strange, but there’s nobody around to see them, and Jonathan finds that he likes that.

 

“You wouldn’t know anyone but grunge bands anyway.” Steve replies with a small smile, and Jonathan lets out a laugh in return.

 

“No, no I wouldn’t.” He agrees, just as Steve leans down to kiss him again. He grips Steve’s wrists as they kiss this time and wonders how hard he would have laughed if someone told him three years ago that he’d be kissing Steve Harrington at nineteen years old in Sweden of all places.

 

“I like this song.” Jonathan allows between kisses, and Steve pulls back once more.

 

“There’s hope for you yet.” He grins, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone as if removing a smear of something, probably dirt. “You wanna dance?” He asks.

 

“Definitely not!” He laughs, and Steve shrugs before pulling him upright, not leaving his lap to press another kiss to his mouth.

 

-

 

**_“I promise you, I will."_  **

 

February 2nd, 1991

 

The sound of someone rustling around in the kitchen has her stirring from sleep. She sleepily blinks her eyes open, wondering if Hopper was making breakfast before he left for work. He didn’t usually have time, but perhaps he woke up early this morning. She squints at the clock and frowns when she finds it to be half past nine.

 

Jim would be at work at this point, and Elle and Will should have left for school at this point. Joyce sits up and grabs the bat next to her bedside table, getting up and heading silently towards her bedroom door. She creeps down the hall, hearing something sizzling and an unfamiliar voice murmuring along to the low volume of the radio. She holds up her bat, tightening her grip and entering the kitchen, ready to beat the shit out of whatever intruder thought they could get away clean.

 

A tall and thin man is faced away from her at the sink, washing something. He has bleach blonde hair that is nicely cut, sides shaved and leaving only a little bit at the top. He’s dressed in a ratty t-shirt and faded jeans, no shoes on but clean feet.

 

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” She snaps, the man startles and drops the dish he was holding into the sink, spinning around. He’s wearing a pair of black frame glasses, doesn’t seem to be the criminal type.

 

“Jesus Christ, Ms. B, you scared me.” He sighs, shutting his eyes as if relieved as he sinks back against the sink. She has a brief moment of confusion, but then brown eyes open and the man cocks a sideways grin at her.

 

“Steve?” She drops the bat and rushes forward, he lifts his arms up just as she reaches him to hug him. “I didn’t recognize you, you’re okay!” She says with relief, then pulls back. “Where’s…?” She looks around the room, only finding a stack of pancakes and some eggs on the counter.

 

“He’s probably asleep on the couch, lazy ass.” He snorts, shaking his head fondly as his eyes crinkle up in amusement.

 

Joyce rushes across the hall and into the living room, freezing up when she spots the prone figure laid out on the couch. His hair is long, dyed a jet black, and he’s in a pair of Jim’s pajama bottoms and a hole-filled t-shirt. She approaches carefully, afraid that if she moves too quickly the mirage might fade away into nothing. She had dreamed of this reunion many times, but never like this, and that’s what solidifies it for her.

 

“Jonathan?” She whispers, sinking down onto the coffee table and reaching out to touch his arm. “Jonathan, baby…” She watches his dark brown eyes blink open, confusion giving way to surprise and excitement.

 

“Mom!” He sits up and she dives forward into his arms, squeezing at him tightly, tears springing to her eyes.

 

“I missed you so much!” Her voice quivers with relief and joy, her baby boy back in her arms once more. She pulls back to observe him, how his face has changed within the five years of his leaving. She had received a single photo, two years before, of Jonathan and Steve. She had gotten many letters and post cards, but only one photo, and this was better than that.

 

“I missed you too.” Jonathan grins, looking teary eyed himself.

 

“Sweetheart, what’d you do to your hair?” She laughs wetly, reaching out to touch long black bangs that were swept to the side of his face.

 

“Can’t be too careful, Steve only dyed his because he pitied how bad mine came out.” He says with a chuckle, and she marvels how different he seems.

 

“Mine still looks better.” Steve quips from the entryway, pulling his fingers through the short fringe still remaining at the top of his head. “I always look better.” He smirks, and Joyce spots the ring on his left hand.

 

Her eyes automatically look to Jonathan’s hands, and finds a similar silver band on his own left hand. Nothing fancy, just two silver rings, but their placement speaks volumes. Jonathan spots her looking at it and laughs nervously, twisting it with the fingers from the opposite hand.

 

“About that…” He says quietly.

 

“It’s okay.” She interrupts him, resting a hand atop his. “I’m just so glad you’re safe.” She pulls Jonathan into another hug, reaching out a hand for Steve to take, which he does after a moment of hesitation. “Both of you.” She assures.

 

-

 

“Sorry,” Jonathan says when he notices his mother watching Steve dance around the kitchen, bobbing his head like an idiot as he flips another pancake. “He’s always in a good mood in the mornings.” He mutters, looking down at his coffee cup.

 

“No, it’s just strange to see you boys home after so long.” She says, reaching over and resting her hand on his arm. “I missed you so much.” She sighs, squeezing at his wrist.

 

“Steve and I are going to stick around if we can, we’ve made some friends recently that have done us a few favors.” He explains rather cryptically, remaining purposefully vague. “There’s a property nearby that will officially belong to Steve in a few days.” He tells her with a small smile.

 

“Really?” She asks, eyebrows raising up slightly. “Where?” She questions, looking to Steve.

 

“Twenty minutes away, towards the Quill Point Woods.” Steve tells her, bringing around a plate of hot pancakes, perfectly browned and fluffy.

 

“How did you afford that?” Joyce shoots a look to Jonathan, who shrugs as he sticks a fork into a pancake and wastes no time stuffing his face.

 

“Times have changed, Ms. B.” Then Steve looks to Jonathan with a winning smile. “Or as we say in Poland, pieprzyć rząd!” He cheers, Jonathan snorts and tries to hide his shit eating grin.

 

“Pieprzyć rząd!” Jonathan lifts his coffee mug in a toast, then looks to his mother. “Fuck government.” He translates, and Joyce laughs.

 

“Here, here!” She lifts up her own cup, and clinks it against Jonathan’s, then Steve’s when he holds his own up.

**Author's Note:**

> ( I hope you enjoyed this piece, I'm planning on adding a sort of afterthought to this. Won't be very long but I feel as if it's important. By the way the Polish at the end is just from Google Translate so honestly take it with a grain of salt. )


End file.
